Moonlit Memories
by moody.muddy
Summary: 30 years after Bella's death, she is still being grieved
1. Narcissa

In the faint light of the everlasting candles hovering near the ceiling the only sound in the darkness was the slapping of bare feet against marble floors as a lone figure ran down the hallway, her silk chemise giving no warmth in the iciness of the house and her breath creating clouds of mistiness before here. Not stopping, even though she was shivering, one hand reached out and gripped the banister as she took the stairs two at a time in her eagerness to be where the music was coming from. She recognised it and the sound of her sister singing long as she played the piano. It had been so long but she was home, finally home. She knew that Bellatrix would never break a promise and she had promised to never leave her, Narcissa, alone again.

Skidding to a stop in the ballroom where the piano was she gazed around with a rapturous expression on her face, her blue eyes searching for her sister and excitement making her dance on the spot. She was as giddy as a schoolgirl. Taking in the things covered by the heavy cloths though her dancing stopped and her shoulders hunched, she had been so sure her sister was finally home. Hands touching her shoulders gently had her jumping and she turned with eagerness on her face expecting to see her sister after all, but it faded as she saw only Draco there, "she isn't here mum, Aunt Bella.. She died mum, she died thirty years ago..". It was the same every night ever since that last battle, his mother would hear the sound of the music and the gaiety of that last night his aunt had been alive. It was only a memory though and his mother collapsed into heaving sobs against him he held onto her tightly, kissing her hair and smoothing a hand over her back, "don't cry mum, Aunt Bella, she wouldn't want you to cry for her, she died a warrior, we should be proud of her".

Gradually,as her tears subsided a little, he was able to convince her to turn and to start back upstairs to bed and to where a fire was lit. Walking with her he glanced back once over his shoulder to where the piano was and in the shaft of moonlight he could have sworn he could see his aunt's ghost watching him and smiling. Though when he looked again, she was gone.


	2. Rodolphus

Winding his way through the skeletal leaves lining the path through the graveyard Rodolphus looked up as he heard an owl hoot, the sight of the little feathered animal making him think of what his wife would've said had she been there to see it. She had loved owls, but it had been thirty years since he had seen her. Thirty years since he had last stared into her eyes or felt her silken hair beneath his fingertips and every day he wished he could see her just once more. Carrying on towards the Lestrange mausoleum he glanced down at his packages of chocolate frogs and jelly beans, her favourite sweets, and the bouquet of roses and marigolds for her.

He made this same trip every year ever since he had lost her, hoping that this year's day of the dead she would return for that one last day he coveted more than anything else. She never had, but he remained hopeful, maybe this year she would come back. It was what the sweets and the flowers were for; offerings for her should she step back through the veil. The sugar skull he had for her he kept polished and nice in the mausoleum ready for her. After the first few years of taking it home after each festival and having to stare at it, reminded she hadn't come, he had decided to keep it here instead.

Speaking the password to enter the crypt; Scorpion, as it had been his pet name for her, he pushed open the stone door and entered the silent crypt, the coldness inside making him shiver but he didn't care. He needed to be here and midnight was fast approaching. Laying out the offerings onto plates of solid silver and lighting a thousand everlasting candles placed around the crypt he set down the sugar skull ready and placed the fresh flowers in the vase then sat on the little stone stool to wait.

Midnight came and went, the morning approaching and the daw seeing children celebrating the return of loved ones outside. From his stool Rodolphus could see through the window, yet still his wife didn't come. He kept his vigil until the following night and it was only after midnight had gone again did he move from the stool, his limbs and body sore and aching from the cold he had been in for over twenty four hours bt he didn't care, it was nothing to the rushing weight of hopelessness as he had to wait for another year to try again. Leaving the offerings where they were he didn't shoo away the ras this time as they went for the sweets, but watched for a moment as a mother rat fed her youngster. Turning with a heavy heart, his feet scuffing across the stone floor he let the crypt then shut the door, sealing it with the password until Christmas when he would return again.


End file.
